


take what you can (give nothing back)

by spacecleavage



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, F/M, Multiple Languages, NSFW, Smut, Space Pirates, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecleavage/pseuds/spacecleavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Clarke Griffin from the Arcadia Colonies, being abducted by space pirates was not what she had in mind. Being ransomed back to her potential husband, was definitely not what she had in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenofchildren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofchildren/gifts).



> for queenofchildren for the bsv, i hope this is what you were after
> 
> thanks to raincityruckus and crooked-queen for putting up with my ramblings and plot nonsense. big thanks to lleia-organa thejgatsbykid and theheartinthefloorboards

Clarke Griffin knew that travelling via the Collin’s Collective freighters was probably not the best idea. She had only met Finn Collins one time, and as charming and wonderful as he appeared, she knew all too well about the façade that some people could keep up despite everything around them. So no, she wasn’t interested in joining the Collins family and their collective of planets this instant, even if the marriage would help her own family, and her people too (though how much remained to be seen). Her mother had even offered her to take her, full procession. But a full procession meant that she was accepting their union, joining their systems together.

Clarke should have followed her intuition, that feeling deep down in her gut telling her something was wrong, but like a fool, she ignored it. Opting instead to travel with the crew of the Polis. It was halfway between the Andromeda galaxy and the M32 elliptical galaxy, on board the T3 class freighter, that her bad feeling came to fruition. An explosion rocked the ship, starting fires all over the place and causing the artificial gravity to fail intermittently.

At first, she thought it might have been a meteor shower, or an undiscovered asteroid belt, or maybe even a stray solar system. Then the hum of the engines cut out, followed by what was undoubtedly multiple grappling hooks attaching to the hull of the ship.

(Her mind flashed back to her first ever encounter with ‘space pirates’, the thugs that roamed the void between systems and even galaxies themselves. They tried to board her father’s aid ship. She could have been no more than five at the time, her memory blurring around the edges but still able to recall the thuds of the hooks hitting the hull, the way the metal of the dock glowed brightly as the pirates attempted to breach the ship. She also remembered her father firing his gun, the sound louder than thunder to her young ears, the way the pirates had run for cover when they realised who her father was, and how her daddy had stood before her, fighting them off.)

Clarke tried not to panic as she realised that her guns were locked away in the hold. She still had a few knives (being the daughter of the Chancellor of the Arcadia colonies, the only triple trinary star systems of Andromeda galaxy, had certain risks, and she’d learnt long ago how to use her knives) but knives were not a great defense against rail guns, laser fire or even regular guns.

She looked around her small cabin, it was a serviceable room, with a bunk bed private ensuite and a small table she had been using to sketch at. According to the captain, it was meant for female passengers, or crew if they happened to employ more women, but currently it contained only her and Wells, her guard and friend. She looked around the room again, she kept most of her knives on her person, but her favourite, the small one her father gave her, the one she kept coated in a poison, was tucked into the fold of her blankets.

She grasped at the handle, sliding it out of its sheath smoothly, it gleamed even in the pale fluorescent lights. She knew better than to test its sharpness, even the small cut from this blade would leave a full grown man unconscious with breathing difficulties in less than a minute. She slid the blade into the hidden sheath in her jacket. It joined the one holding her hair in the bun, the one in her boot, one in her thigh holster, in her bra. It might have been a bit excessive for a small inter-galaxy hop, but as the daughter of the Chancellor, her life had been at risk more than a few times. With five outright attempts on her life, four attempted kidnappings and seven acts of terrorism at events she was meant to appear at, she knew how to defend herself.

Sadly for this knowledge to be imparted, a person had to be conscious. Which Clarke was not, because as she was leaving her quarters the artificial gravity failed causing her to float into the corridor, the crates stacked high in the corridor floating too. Clarke assumed that it was one of those crates that hit her when the grav came back on.

When she woke up, she was in the hold of an unfamiliar ship, belly down, her head thumping and aching with each beat of her heart. Her fingers gently touched the spot where the ache originated. The bump was only small, but touching it sent pain shooting outwards. She winced as she sat up, the thumping echoing in her ears, and lights dancing behind her eyes.

She looked around the hold, most of the crew of the Polis sat bound, the engineer beside her. Her eyes darted to Clarke’s, in them was the fear that Clarke knew must be reflected back in her own. Space pirates weren’t known for their kindness. There were stories about the mad ones, who raped, pillaged and murdered their way through the outer rim of the Andromeda and other stories depicted those who left their prey stranded in space, or on deserted planets.

Given that they were in the hold on the ship, it was obvious to Clarke that the crew were either going to be sold into slavery or dumped on the random planet, the Polis would be stripped for parts and she would likely be ransomed…if they knew who she was.

“Looks like the Princess’s awake.” The voice was deep, raspy and if it had been a different situation Clarke might have been attracted to it, but as she looked up at him. He looked like a pirate from the days of Old Earth, dark leather boots, and pants that looked like they were of soft material a few shades darker than his boots. His pants were so tight she had trouble not imagining how his ass would look in them, or how difficult it would be to peel them off of him.

Wow, she must have hit her head harder than she thought, especially if she was thinking that a pirate was attractive.

It wasn’t helped by the hint of freckles where his shirt gaped open at the neck, the gold of his skin against the white of his shirt or long curling hair. In fact all of him was devastatingly attractive, from those worn leather boots to those curls which would be amazing to bury her fingers into, pull him closer to her lips… ok, yeah, she was clearly very confused, her brain was swelling and any second she was going to lose consciousness again.

“Murphy, I don’t pay you to sit on your ass, tie her up already.” The man commanded before leaving, Clarke didn’t watch his ass until a face with the straight nose, wide set eyes was right in front of her. His clear blue eyes held more cruelty than the dark ones that had been staring at her only moments ago.

“Do you wanna know what he pays me for?” his voice sounded like nail screeching down a chalkboard, her hand reaching for her knife on instinct alone. “He pays me to make sure things get done.”

In the space of a blink, his smile turned crueler and before her senses could catch up with her instincts, she’d cut his forearm. The cut itself was minor and could probably be managed with a simple dressing and antibiotics, but the poison that would enter his blood stream quickly and the effects on his body? Disastrous.

The engineer gasped as Murphy collapsed, his head thumping on the ground, drawing the attention of the leader. Clarke’s eyes darted around, looking for an exit or an escape, anything at all. She decided on the door closest to her, but before she manages one step, the leader was in front of her. Her heart stopped for a second when the man’s fist hit her inner arm. The knife clattered to the ground.

She stared into his eyes, filled with rage, then the fear she had felt when Murphy looked at her only a few moments ago. Her breath rushed in, his hand wrapped her forearm and as he stepped closer, her free arm grasped at the knife in her hair. Yet before she could plunge into his eye, he was holding that one too.

“Fucking pirate,” the words ripped out of her as the knife dropped out of her hand.

“Is that anyway for a Princess to talk?” She could have growled at him. One of his hands was big enough to hold both of her wrists, and so he did while fishing around for a pair of handcuffs. They that were cold against her skin, biting into her.

As they locked around her wrist, it appeared - the fight went out of her. Her shoulders slumped, her body sagged, limp. It went against her very nature, to allow this man to think her weak. She took a deep breath, calming herself, as repeated the technique her father had taught her long ago. Think. Plan. Fight him and he will fight back. Take him off guard and you may win; relax. Play dead. “Nice try, Princess. But I taught that technique to my sister.” Her upper lip curled at him and she repressed the urge to yell at him, to fight, to bite, scratch and claw her way away from him.

“You mudak,” the Russian slipped out of her mouth.

“That’s very rude. Speaking of rude, what’d you do to Murphy?”

“The baka tried to touch me,” she jerked her wrists away from him. Glaring at him. She reached for another one of her knives, the one located in her boot. She only had time to half draw it before he reacted.

“You just don’t give up do you?”

“Not while I’m alive.”

“And exactly how many more knives do you have on you?” he looked down her body. Her own boots were of soft leather, her comfortable, brown, homespun dress, and her jacket, her fierce jacket that could keep out biting winds and stray bullets. But she had the distinct feeling he was taking in more than just her clothes as his gaze lingered on her panting chest, dip of her waist and curve of her ass.

She ground her teeth together and glared as his eyes lingered on her lips. He pulled a leather strap out of his pocket, he gave her a sympathetic smile.

“I hate to do this, but I can’t have you pulling another knife on me, my first mate won’t be happy about it.” He wrapped the cord around her forearms, not tightly enough to cut off her blood supply, but enough to bind her and stop her from getting another knife.

Stoically, she stared ahead, focusing on the bulkhead, the gunmetal grey colour and faded white lettering. He dropped to his knees, she could feel his eyes on her face, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Or she would break. Like the shattering of a planet before a black star.

His hands slid up her calves. She closed her eyes against the feeling, so warm and rough, working on a ship created calluses. Calluses that dragged along her soft skin. She repressed a shiver as his long fingers drifted across the back of her knees. Her eyes traced the kanji on the bulkhead. It stated ‘Entrance’ with an arrow pointing to the entrance. She attempted to focus on that rather than the way his fingers ghosted across her skin. The way he caused desire to clench in her gut.

She barely knew this man, had been kidnapped by him and he was causing this reaction in her. She didn’t even know his name and fuck, his fingers shouldn’t feel this good against her skin. His eyes shouldn’t be so fascinating, his mouth so tempting.

He plucked the knife from her garter, and let her brown skirts fall down, and picked himself up off the floor. “I’d ask if this was all them, but we both know that isn’t true.”

“Va te faire foutre.”

“Such a wicked tongue.” He took a step closer to her, everything about him invading her senses. All she could smell was him, the heady masculine smell surrounding her. All she could hear was his breath, the hum of the engine below them and the noises of the crew. But his breath, his breath was crystal clear. All she could see was him, the dimple in his chin, his tempting, sinful lips. All she could feel was his breath fanning across her face, the heat of his body. She steeled herself against him, against how he was making her feel.

His hands slipped around her waist, checking her back and down her sleeves.

“You done yet?” she slipped back into English.

She knew he could see the one in her bra, and she knew that he knew that she knew, but she didn’t blink until he gave her a small smile and began to walk towards the other people in the crew.

She considered hitting him over the head, but just as she was about to take a step forward, a small brunette burst into the hold. Even from her distance, the girl was obviously out of breath and anxiety poured off her in waves. The man was in front of her in a few large steps.

She said a few words to him, before he dragged her more towards Clarke and away from the bulk of the crew. Clarke could hear their muttered words, and clearly the engineer could too, because she straightened her back. The girls hands flew, and while Clarke couldn’t read all the words, she knew enough to know something had gone wrong with the … Argo? Perhaps the name of the ship they were on.

The engineer sat up, Clarke could see her eyes gleam with captivation and fear. It wasn’t a good sign, she knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“Why don’t you bypass the secondary line and pump the carbon dioxide straight into filter?” Her voice was confident, even if Clarke could see her hand shaking.

“Are you an engineer?” the petite brunette asked.

“No, mechanic,” Clarke frowned, if she was from the Arcadia colonies she definitely would have been called an engineer.

“You’ll do.” The man stated, brushing past the brunette and gesturing for the mechanic to get up. The mechanic shook her head slightly, I can’t. Clarke recalled the way the mechanic had limped past her room, the brace on her leg and the slow way she moved passed her room. To Clarke it was another indication that she wasn’t from Arcadia; all citizens were provided with the best health care possible, she’d been instrumental in that legislation. Arcadia might not have been very big compared to other more established colonies, and it was miniscule in comparison to the Old Terra and the more colonised parts of the Milky Way. It was that legislation that led to the growth in the Arcadia colonies and their need for allies. It was this, which caused her mother to reach to the Collins Collective.

The man blinked only once, before reaching below her armpits and softly pulling her up. It was the same way a parent would right a fallen child. It seemed out of place in this man, this pirate, to be so tender, so gentle with this young woman. He had mentioned a sister, was she perhaps the brunette with fierce eyes? She could see the silhouette of a resemblance.

Clarke watched the brunette come over and direct the mechanic away. The pirate came to stand in front of her.

“Come on Princess, we should go with them, make sure they don’t blow up my ship.”

“Your ship?”

“I am the Captain after all.”

“Of this piece of shit,” his forehead creased and his lips almost pouted when she insulted the ship.

“What’s a Princess like you doing talking like a port rat?”

“I needed to be able to speak to my people. To be a good leader I need to be able to understand them.” Clarke watched the pirate’s brow furrow, his tongue darted out to lick his lips before his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “What’s wrong pirate? Surprised that I care so much about my people?”

Clarke could literally see the muscle in his jaw clench, this caused his jaw line to stand out. She only then noticed that he was walking them out of the cargo bay into the ship. She tried to study each bulkhead, each piece of faded lettering. But his hand landed on the small of her back, and the gentle pressure was persistent and distracting. Everything that he was started to surround around her again, she didn’t allow herself to dwell on it this time however, her focus on the passing bulkheads and the signs that indicated they were nearing the engine room.

By the time they were entering the room, she had figured out the ship originated from what was left of the Virgo Stellar Stream, it was most like a freighter, maybe an old cruise liner, or even an explorer class ship. A freighter class would be easy to escape, plenty of places to hide and plenty of life pods. The cruiser would be more difficult, because there weren’t as many places to hide and she hadn’t spent as much time on them, but still plenty of life pods. Now if it were an explorer, she had a definite advantage there. Not only had she spent the most time on those ships, but she actually had a working understanding of the engines in explorer class ships.

She was so happy when she walked into the engine to discover the large sign declaring the ship to be an explorer MF-2187. It was the bigger class than the one her father used to have, but, she was still very familiar with the engine, as well as the life support and most of its other functions.

“Do you have a pair plasma proof gloves?” The mechanic was buried in the life support system, but Clarke could see her pretty dark hair and her light blue shirt.

While the mechanic worked, Clarke formulated a plan to escape. She would need a distraction so she could set off the alarm then she could get to one of the shuttles, hopefully the engine would be functional and she could escape on it. If her distraction could be critically damaging the engine, then she would have a decent chance of someone else finding her, rather than these pirates.

Her distraction was key to her plan, but would probably also be the hardest thing about it. The pirate’s attention was mostly on her, and partially on the mechanic.

“How long you been a mechanic, wrench monkey?”

“Since I was twelve, and my name is Raven, pirate,” the last word was spat at him.

“You know I have a name too, right?”

“Nah, just thought your name was coño.” Clarke felt her face twist into a smirk at the snarky mechanic, Raven, Raven, she reminded herself. It suited her, with her dark hair and her necklace. Clarke had noticed it in the mess hall, it was very pretty, but Wells had said they needed to go back to their cabin, and she had just forgot about it. Wells, where was he? The last time she’d seen him was before this whole thing started.

“Bellamy, my name is Bellamy.”

Making eye contact with Raven, they simultaneously rolled their eyes. He sounded like an old movie. “Bond, James Bond.”

“So, Bellamy, why’d you hit the Polis?”

“There was a rumour going around that Finn Collins’ girl was on it, and I knew straight away that I could ransom her back to him.”

The response was instantaneous and as Clarke felt the words leave her mouth, at the same time Raven spoke as well.

“I haven’t even accepted him yet!”

“I’m never going to live down being ransomed.”

“Wait, what?!” Both girls turned to one another.

And did it again.

“How’d you know Finn?”

“Why would you never live down being ransomed?”

“You first,” Raven gestured, turning towards her, her gaze searching.

“I’m Clarke Griffin, daughter of the Chancellor of the Arcadia colonies, Finn and his family have offered me a marriage contract. You?”

“Finn Collins is my boyfriend.”

Both of them stared at each other for as long as possible, Clarke tried to process what she was just told.

“Can I get some fresh air please?” Clarke walked to the door, expecting it to be opened for her. She felt Bellamy behind her as he let her out.

She was out the door between her heart beating, even at the pace it was going, racing beneath her breast bone.

She was so confused. Finn, he’d given no inclination… He’d made it obvious he was interested in her, from outrageous gifts to small handmade ones, and even the idea of the marriage. He’d pursued her.

Yet, here was Raven, his girlfriend. And he hadn’t…

Clarke didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. Why would he lie like that? Why would he ask for her hand, if he was with someone else?

She stopped suddenly and tried to focus on her breathing. A deep breath in and then slowly released. Another quickly followed by another. Even with her heart beat slowing, with it not thundering in her ears, it didn’t make any sense. She couldn’t fathom why he would lie.

“I…” Clarke tried to begin, but she didn’t have anything to say. She didn’t have anything to say. There were no words to describe how she was feeling. Empty, yet brimming full of emotion. Wanting to punch him, and burst into tears, but then nothing.

A hand landed softly on her shoulder, and she could tell it was meant to be gentle, reassuring, but his hand was too heavy.

“Please don’t,” her voice cracked. She squeezed her eyes against the emotion.

“Come on, stop, usually I’m the one making girls cry.”

“I can believe that,” Clarke snorted.

Clarke looked up, she finally noticed where they were. One corner away from the drop ships, her escape… Instinct took over, perhaps it wasn’t the best move she could have done, or even the smartest considering their size difference. But she did it anyway, she threw herself at him. Bellamy clearly didn’t expect the attack, afterall, she was meant to be his prisoner.

He landed on the ground with a satisfying thud, with Clarke right on top of him.

The air inside him whooshed out with the impact, and his face reddened (in anger or embarrassment, Clarke didn’t know). Her forehead hit his chin, causing pain to flash through her, and given his roar, Bellamy was likely in pain too. Clarke hoped she could get away clean, a black, swollen eye would impede her journey, or worse - a tooth would actually require management if it was sticking out of her head.

Bellamy’s arms came around her waist, involuntarily, capturing her, warm, tight. It was safe, and just for a moment, Clarke could imagine it. But after that moment, it was hard to ignore Bellamy’s muscular body sprawled beneath her. She endeavoured not to entertain any indecent thoughts about Bellamy, he seemed the type that could sense it. Traitorously though, Clarke couldn’t ignore his body, hot, solid. More so than it had the right to be, more than she thought humanly possible. For some reason, she thought he would be a cold-blooded pirate.

Clarke realised after a minute, that he still hadn’t let go of her waist. She reminded herself that this man was holding her hostage, she owed him no kindness. But as she looked up and caught a glimpse of his dark curls, her stomach rolled.

Bellamy looked down and their eyes locked. She got lost in his eyes, dark, enchanting with almost swirling flecks of gold embedded in his iris… damn; this was no time for her imagination or artistic desire to switch on. This man was her enemy; not an attractive suitor to lust over. Lust, hold on, who mentioned lust? Fuck, she did. Suddenly he tensed underneath her, as if only just realising their positions. Clarke resolutely ignored the tightness in her belly and her heart beating just a touch faster that the movement caused.

“Princess, what the hell-”

His next words never escaped his mouth because she clasped her hands together and hit him, hard. He was knocked unconscious from the blow.

Clarke escaped down the hallway and ran into someone.

The boy, dark hair and eyes, unassuming, stared at her. I don’t want to hurt him, Clarke thought to herself, he seemed so young, small, with haunted eyes.

“Get out of my way!”

“I…” he fumbled.

“Please,” Clarke ground out, “I don’t want to hurt you!”

He stared at her. She could feel him staring at her bound hands, her steely eyes and her set jaw. He didn’t move, Clarke saw his eyes dart past her for a second. That was the only warning she got before the butt of a sword, hit her over the back of her head, knocking her unconscious.

.

When Clarke came to her head was throbbing, the pain almost blinding. Her hand rose up and rubbed the spot where the ache originated. She pulled her hand back, and squinted at it. She looked around where she was.

She lay on a small bunk bed with a threadbare blanket, in a small bedroom, or rather a cell, with a small toilet and sink in the corner. It was plain, boring with no decorations or anything at all. One wall was a force field, the rest metal. A cell.

“And sleeping beauty awakens!”

Clarke glared at the force field, she could make out the outline of someone, a dark shadow, tall, solid. It was the pirate’s voice, Bellamy.

“How’s your head?”

She ignored him, lying back down and trying to ignore the thumping in her head. What she wouldn’t give for some charcoal, or sketch book and pencils. Well, there were a few things she wouldn’t give up, but what she needed now was some paracetamol, or a scan, and her stuff. Who knew how long she was going to be stuck in this little cell.

“You know it is polite to reply.”

“I was taught, if I don’t have anything nice to say, I shouldn’t say it at all. But I can make an exception for you.”

She heard him sigh and then walk away.

Her eyes closed and she tried to let herself slip back into blissful sleep, but it would not come. The room was too bright, a lump in her pillow, the buzzing of the field. Just as she thought she could ignore one thing, another would start annoying her.

.

Three days after she was put in the cell, Clarke had been released once to get a quick once over with their medic, a small girl with shaky hands and drained eyes. When she came back to her cell, lying in the corner was a small pile of things, one change of clothes (a standard flight-suit plus underwear), charcoal and her sketching material within. Within a day, she had used most of the charcoal and what flourished around the cell was constellations, star clusters, the Arcadia colonies and even some of distant galaxies (places she had wanted to explore when she was young). Three times each day, a meal was sent through a slot. She had barely any contact with actual people, only the small medic and Wells as they passed leaving the med bay. Thankfully, their guards had allowed them to hug before pushing them along. Her own guard at the time was an imposing man, tall and broad with tattoos indicating a darker past, yet he was as kind to her as the situation allowed him to be.

On the fourth day Bellamy came in the morning, talking about boredom and stars, she ignored him.

He came again with her lunch, trying again to talk to her, he spoke of his home in the Magellanic Cloud. Not of his memories so much, but more the places he’d explored before he’d heard word of his mother’s death.

Again at dinner, and then the next meal and the next. Clarke didn’t know when she started replying, adding little comments, sharing her own memories. Just that she had.

On the breakfast drop of her sixth day, he didn’t come but instead a book was dropped through the slot, with a small note. Sorry, something came up. Thought you might like something to do rather than ruining my cell.

There was no evidence that she smiled when she read the note (she faced away from the surveillance camera in her cell) and she didn’t laugh when she read the title, it was a cough. The Greek Classics. While she didn’t have that particular volume at home, she’d studied The Iliad, The Odyssey, Medea and many others in the collection at great length.

When they next spoke they talked of the Iliad and the faults of men and gods shown through the story. The Odyssey with the wandering man, almost doomed to be forever lost. And of course, Jason, a man of legend, and how he fell at the hands of the gods, but what was truly his own fault.

On the eighth day she was allowed out to shower and stretch her legs.

On the ninth, she saw Bellamy’s face for the first time since… it felt like seeing him for the first time. She could understand him better, she recognised his motives behind her kidnapping.

On the tenth day she asked about the crew of the Polis. Part of her was surprised he let them go.

He moved her and Wells into a small bunk room, much like the one they’d had on the Polis. The only difference being the guard outside the door.

.

“No no no,” Clarke argued. “Think about the medical advancements that were lost during the witch trials, so many innocent people were killed during them. So much knowledge destroyed.”

“Clarke, I’m telling you, there was more knowledge lost due the burning of the Library of Alexandria. We could be centuries, if not millennia ahead of where we are now!”

“Ok, I agree that. But you have to see that there were millions of lives lost, during the witch trials.”

.

“You see those burns there?”

“The ones with the green outline?” Harper asked, pointing at the right cluster.

“Those ones, how would you treat them?” Clarke leaned back watching the girl’s mind work.

“They’re radiation burns, so decon and then treatment?”

“Decon is an excellent idea, but what treatment? Would you use a burns salve or give them something with a numbing agent?” Clarke tried to encourage the girl with a small smile. Her medical knowledge had been rudimentary, and to effective, she needed some help.

Clarke didn’t hear the med bay doors slide open, but she did see Bellamy smiling at her over Harper’s head.

.

“Hey Wells,” Raven called, “pass me the sautering tool?”

Clarke smiled as Wells carefully lifted the machinery and delicately passed it to her. He tried to avoid touching her, but with Raven reaching back blindly from the power relay, he had no chance. Clarke smirked down at her shoes as they moved on, the shy smile still stretched across Wells’s face.

.

Clarke didn’t know why she had given up escaping, she knew she should have still been trying. But she was so tired, so bone tired. She hadn’t realised that before. She couldn’t see how much being a part of her mother’s life had been draining.

.

Clarke lay in her cot, the room was almost completely silent all around her. Almost, the sound of the door hissing open, the almost silent footfalls and her covers being moved back, as a hot, very naked, muscled body squeezed in beside her. She wasn’t sure what kept her from moving, but it felt like she was paralysed.

It was a huge shock to her when her body turned in the sleeping bag, her hands digging into the dark curls of the person. Their hair was so soft, she’d yearned to touch it since she’d first seen it. It was so silky between her fingertips.

His lips grazed over the curve of her shoulder, not feather light, but she could barely feel his stubble dragging over her sensitive skin. Her body quaked in desire as his teeth nipped at her collar bone. His deep chuckle sent shards of desire shooting straight to her core. She knew it was wrong, sinful, and yet oh so perfect at the same time. His fingers dug into her hips as his mouth suddenly enveloped hers.

He rolled her body so she lay over the top of him, as the feeling of his lips was tattooed onto her brain. Their kiss grew in intensity until… a hand on her shoulder roused her from the dream.

.

Heartbeats are a funny thing, they can keep you alive, feel like the only noise you can hear. Heartbeats can also be used to measure time.

For Clarke, it was in between those heartbeats when she realised that she liked Bellamy Blake. She liked spending time with him, talking with him, arguing with him. She also liked his lips, and how every time they fought it felt likes sparks were flying. She enjoyed when they sparred, how his body felt beneath her when she pinned him to the ground. Or when his hips pinned hers to the ground, his arms stopping her from moving.

It was in the space of a heart beat she finally acknowledged to herself that she’d like to ride Bellamy, or kneel in front of him, exploring his cock.

.

It was the twenty first day when Clarke heard that the ransom was to be delivered. That the exchange was going to happen. Her, for enormous piles of money, or credits, or supplies, whatever Bellamy had bargained for.

.

Clarke wanted the exchange to go smoothly, no bloodshed, no pain, no guns. The plan was for the Collins Collective ship would dock with the Argonaut, Clarke, Wells and Raven to go to the ship and the goods would be dropped once the Collective had their hostages back.

Plans had a habit of going awry.

Clarke was waiting around the corner from the docking port, she could hear the scrape of metal against metal as the ships docked, the hiss of air as it flooded the airlock. The sound of Bellamy shifting from on foot to the other, a nervous energy surrounded the whole crew, pulsing through them.

The plan came to a shuddering halt when Raven refused to step forward, her hand clutching at the wall.

“I’m not going anywhere. Blake’s agreed to take me on as chief mechanic.”

Clarke and Wells exchanged looks, they knew there was nothing they could, but it might cause a slight hitch in the plan.

The next problem came in the form of the Collin’s Collective men bursting out of the airlock, guns already drawn.

Bellamy attempted to diffuse the situation, but the Collective men spoke over him, demanding that his prisoners be released, or they would take action against him. What action wasn’t clear but when she stepped out from around the corner, it became very clear. Their weapons were pointed at everyone, even when she and Wells appeared they were targeted, if only for a moment.

“Clarke Griffin, please step forward.” One of the men said.

“Quitamos de este pronto para que podemos volar esta cagada por los aires,” another chimed in from behind him.

Now Clarke’s Spanish was a touch rusty, and she knew neither Bellamy nor Octavia spoke any. However some of the crew did, Miller and Lincoln bristled at the words, hands drifting towards their guns. She came to an abrupt stop, Wells crashing into the back of her as she processed their words. Let’s get this over with so we can blow this piece of shit up.

“You will not harm this crew, nor cause damage to their ship.” Clarke straightened her back, setting her face in her political mask.

“Ambassador Griffin, step forward.” The man repeated.

“You will not harm them.” Clarke’s voice echoed around them. She could feel the tension growing, in her periphery she caught Miller slowly withdrawing his weapon. She moved in front Bellamy as the leader raised his gun.

“This can end two ways Griffin, you can walk out of here, or I can fail this mission. Your choice.” He didn’t lower his gun, instead pointing it more towards Clarke.

In between the racing beats of her heart, she saw the captain make a decision. A cruel sneer pulling at his features.

He didn’t have time to fire his weapon though, a well placed shot from Miller put him down. Even if he had fired, he likely would have missed, as Bellamy pulled her down to the ground. He rolled on top of her, protecting her from the flying bullets, she didn’t hear the thuds of any bodies.

She didn’t have time to appreciate the feel of his body over hers as shots rang past their ears, and she could hear the drawing of swords.

“As soon as I’m aboard, disengage the airlock, and get the hell out of here.” The words were whispered in his ear. But she knew he heard. The doubt, fear and sudden comprehension flew across his face. He knew what she was going to do.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a soft side, Princess.” His words cut at her, and she almost swallowed her goodbye.

“May we meet again.” Clarke slipped away from him (Away from what they could have been.)

.

The feed was low quality, fading in and out, and barely clear enough to make out Bellamy and Raven sitting at the bar, their glasses of full of clear liquid, which weren’t likely to be water judging by the way they grimaced after each swig. Their eyes flicked to the holo-screen as the news burst flashed on.

‘Arcadia Colonies new leader, Indra Osetti already turning things around.’

Raven and Bellamy might have both smiled at that, little smirks which grew broader with the next headline. ‘Former group called Collins’ Collective decides to change to Rinia Sector.’

Bellamy wasn’t drunk, but he planned on getting there soon. It had been three weeks since the exchange. Three weeks since he’d seen Clarke close the airlock, the slamming sound resonating in his ears.

Raven was tipsy, and she couldn’t help but smile at the bartender. She was cute with her dark curly hair and expressive brown eyes. Raven didn’t think she’d ever be able to like brown eyes again after Finn, but Gina’s were special, charming and so full of life. Her sarcastic wit also helped the corners of her mouth turn up into a genuine smile.

“Be careful,” Bellamy joked as Gina moved to serve another costumer. “Wells will looked like a kicked puppy for a week if you bring someone back.”

“If you hadn’t made him clean the air scrubbers, then maybe he would be here, helping me seal the deal with her,” her beaker gestured at the bartender. “Or maybe we’d just be making out in the corner, leaving you to your pity party.” She spoke lower, almost a whisper.

“Shut up.”

Neither of them were surprised when someone sat down next to them, it was bar, the only one with real alcohol on the station and the only station this side of the NGC 206 cloud. They didn’t even notice when she pulled off her hood.

“You know, for pirates you guys were ridiculously easy to find.” Both heads swung towards Clarke’s voice. “I have some ideas about that.”


	2. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> optional smutty follow up

This was Clarke’s first time in the captain’s quarters, in Bellamy’s quarters. If it had been another time, she would have studied it. But all she really noticed was where his bed was and that he had a large window which overlooked the NGC cluster, beyond that she really didn’t notice anything. Afterall, it was hard to focus on anything at all, with Bellamy teeth dragging along her collarbone. Her breaths came out in short pants, as his hand pulled at the stays of her shirt. Her heart racing as the fingers of his other hand tangled with hers.

His fingers caressed the soft material of her bra, pushing it into her flesh. She gasped in pleasure when his fingers finally slipped off the garment, fingernails scraping the sensitive flesh. He hadn’t taken any of her clothes off, and Bellamy was able to wring noises from her that she’d never heard before. His fingernails dragged beneath the material of her bra, growing ever closer, sending a stab of desire straight to her loins.

She wished he was pressed against her instead of the wall, that she could feel his hips between hers. His cock, God, she wanted to feel his cock rubbing against her clit, his hands cupping her ass as he pulled her closer. Instead he was pressed into the wall beside her, not moving, apart from his exploring hand.

His fingers didn’t tease her there for long before travelling further downward, loosening and removing clothing on its way. Clarke would have helped, but Bellamy’s mouth moved down as well, just grazing her nipple and then setting his mouth on it over the material, sucking. Her head thrashed as the pleasure flashed through her spine. She barely had time to deal with that before his mouth moved again. This time it settled above her bra, where he set about marking her skin. His teeth nipped at her flesh, his mouth sucking it in, blood rushing to the area. Heady pleasure almost blinded her to the sight of the stars. Constellations, systems, galaxy and nebulae as she’d never seen them before.

She used her free hand to pull his curls closer to her, down to where she wanted his mouth. Yet, he moved away, choosing to mark more of her cleavage with his lips and teeth.

She jerked, her whole body pulling in on itself as his long fingers touched her. So distracted by his mouth she had completely forgotten about his hand. His fingers pushed her lower lips apart, she tried to pretend that they didn’t glide smoothly across her skin and that the smell of arousal was engulfing them.

She looked over his shoulder staring at the stars as he drove her towards them, struck at how the similar patterns appeared on his skin, in the shape of his many freckles. The light danced across them as his shoulder flexed and his hand clutched harder at hers. Sparks of pleasure shot through her body, like stars falling across the sky, for the first few she wasn’t sure they were real, but then they were brighter harder to ignore. Her body jerked and thrashed against the pleasure.

She took one last glance at the stars, before she shuts her eyes and they exploded in a dance on the back of her eyelids.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr under thatweirdparamedicstudent
> 
> i'd love to hear what you think :D


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